Title:Dancing With Themselves
Summary: A simple yet meaningful story of friendship's evolvement to love. No one said it would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.
A young girl on the verge of puberty walked down the streets with tears straining down her cheeks.
Today had not been her day.
The one time that she finally got the guts to talk to this guy she likes, he gets a girlfriend. And what was worse, this guy's girlfriend was her best friend. She not only felt rejected, but also betrayed.
However, this girl was not mean. She was anything but that. She's got a heart of gold and if her best friend and her crush being together makes them happy then she's sort of happy too. After all, everyone has their own partner in life. Hers is just yet for her to meet.
But yet, wishfully thinking, she couldn't help the tiny inkling of hope that things would have gone the other way—a way wherein she and the guy she likes would happily be together for the remains of destiny. She sighed. She just wished it didn't have to feel this bad.
What made her cheer up a bit, though, was seeing other couples happy, and this time was no exception. She rounded a corner and into the local park to see another couple, laughing exceptionally and making lovey-dovey eyes at each other. This was an unusual pair though, she thought. But that only made their aura even more romantic. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the sixteen year olds in front of her.
The guy was in a wheelchair, his fashion sense was a total no-no (seriously, who wears belts and suspenders in real life?), and he's got widely framed glasses. She wears all black, from her head to her toes and to her hands where black gloves surrounded them. She seemed to be Asian, wearing a black shirt and skirt and black combat boots with fishnet stockings. She has blue streaks on her hair, but she was smiling like there's no tomorrow. And so was he.
She hit him playfully on the head, and he pouted a bit. The Goth girl immediately apologized, he said it didn't really hurt, but the young girl could tell that it did.
She sighed again and smiled. Maybe someday she'd find her own wheelchair guy.
She started walking homeward, unbeknownst to her that the wheelchair guy and the Goth girl were not actually a couple. And that they too were wishful thinking of their own loves.
And unbeknownst to both of them, they sincerely belong to each other.